#Marlena Bluejeans

[noodyl-blasstal]

Free day! - Blupjeans Week, day 6

My @blupjeansweek prompts are part of a story find the others here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 or on Ao3

“So why haven’t you told her how you feel yet?”

Barry nearly dropped the milk he was trying to pull from the fridge. She couldn’t just say things like that, what if Lup heard? “Mummig!” He said indignantly, face hot with embarrassment. Apparently the robust walls he’d tried to build around his feelings for Lup were tissue paper levels of flimsy as far as Marlena was concerned. Of course he knew she’d see through him. She always saw through him. But he thought maybe he could get away with it for more than a minute, at least a day, but apparently not. “Ssssh. What if she hears you?”

“Shall we take our coffee out to the porch then?” Okay, so Barry had no stay of execution, they were definitely going to have to talk about this. Then Marlena smiled wide and soft. “It’s nice to have a cup waiting for me. Thank you Barry.”

There was no world in which he didn’t make the two cups. Lup wouldn’t be awake for hours yet, but in this house? Here the quiet mornings belonged to Barry and Marlena. Instead of his usual solo research hours, they’d take the coffee pot and sit on the porch. Usually they’d watch the deer, rock idly, talk about anything, everything, nothing; but apparently today, they were going to talk about Lup. Him and Lup. Specifically his feelings for Lup. While Lup slept upstairs in his bed. Great. Good. That was fine. Barry could do that.

Situated and settled, Marlena eased him in with stories of their neighbours - no one had changed, this place was constant. Barry wanted to believe it was constant anyway. It was good to know he could always come back and find it unchanged. “But that’s enough of that, I’m going to ask again, Barry. Why haven’t you told her yet?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” It wouldn’t work, of course it wouldn’t work, Marlena was magic, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

She levelled him with a look that he’d always squirmed under. She saw through him, right past his meaty exterior to find bits of soul to read.. “Barry, beautiful, kind, intelligent son of mine. You have been in love with this wonderful woman since at least half way through your first degree. Sooner really, but I don’t think you knew it then. So why haven’t you told her yet?”

“I…” Barry started. Then promptly stopped. He didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t you think she deserves to know?” Marlena’s tone was light, gentle with a hint of concern. Barry didn’t want to cry, he didn’t need to cry. He could talk about this. He loved Lup, Lup didn’t love him, it was a fact of life, nothing to be upset about.

“She doesn’t feel the same.” He said quietly, quickly. He knew why he hadn’t told Lup, it was because he was a coward. If he didn’t say anything he couldn’t be rejected.

“Don’t you think she deserves to decide that, Barry, not you?” Marlena asked, head cocked curiously.

“I…” Barry petered out. There was a long pause.

“Do you trust Lup?” Marlena asked.

“Yes” Barry answered fast, he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Do you think she’d ever purposefully do anything to hurt you?”

“No.” He knew that was true as well.

“Well then, I won’t say anymore about it, but I want you to think on what I’ve said... Now, tell me again about what they asked in your viva?”

“I’ve already told you three times, Mummig, surely you’re bored of it by now?” Barry knew she didn’t understand most of it, but he also knew she’d listen to him explain it for hours if he wanted to.

“Never.” She laughed and shook her head. “How could I get bored of hearing you talk about something you love so much? My little boy, all grown up and doing ethical necromancy.” Marlena pretended to wipe away a tear.

“Fine, but you have to tell me about the field archery tournament next. I want to hear the story about the badger sculpture again.”

They refilled their mugs, rocked slowly, and talked away the first chill of morning.

– “Moooornnnnning.” Lup called through the porch door.

“Lup! Would you like to come join us, dear? Grab a mug from the kitchen, there’s still plenty of coffee in the pot, Barry hasn’t long topped it up.”

“I’d love to, anything you need while I’m there?”

The thing Barry loved about rituals is that they could be the same and new and different all at once. He’d sat on this porch a million times with Marlena, watched the dew on the grass steam and wisp to nothing and felt anchored here. Not by weight, but by wanting. When Lup joined them, shuffling Barry to the side so she can perch in the space beside him and throw her legs across his, it was different, but it was still all the things he loved. It was still home.

– Lup made lunch. She insisted that Marlena should ‘make the most of having a baller chef on staff for the week’ and cheerfully instructed Barry as her kitchen porter. Afterwards, full and appreciative, they all dozed as the television played nonsense in the background. Lup couldn’t be still for long though, and Barry could tell her limit was approaching as she tried unsuccessfully to subdue her need to fidget.

“Shall we go for a walk?” He asked the room.

Lup was out of her seat immediately and almost ran towards the front door. “Wanna show me the old den you built?” She asked, pulling on her boots. “I bet there’s still a bit of it there. If not, you can point out where everything was. It’d be fun to see Baby Barry engineering.”

“You two go ahead.” Marlena waved them off. “I’m going to stay here, big plans for dinner, but I’ll need to stay close to keep an eye on everything. Have a nice time, and don’t worry about rushing back.”

Barry laced his boots, opened the door, and waved. Marlena waved back, and waited until Lup turned away to give him an encouraging thumbs up. Barry suppressed a groan. He supposed she had only promised not to say anything more on the matter, gestures were fair game, but still.

They crunched across the short path to the woods and Lup idly hooked her pinky finger with his. “So, you know how your window’s over the porch?” She said, not breaking her stride, not looking anywhere but the path ahead as they entered the tree line.

Barry did, now that Lup mentioned it, know his window was over the porch. He was willing to bet Marlena knew that too. Was Lup mentioning it because she overheard or just for unrelated architecture based reasons? She hadn’t ever felt compelled to comment on window placement before though… Maybe if he just ran it wouldn’t be weird? He could hitchhike home, leave Lup the car, and by the time she got back to town she would have forgotten why she was angry with him. Although, actually, she didn’t sound angry, her voice wasn’t raised or at Lup’s scary quiet rage register either. “Uh… yeah.”

“Well, I woke up early today. Birds, you know. Noise is different in the countryside.” She squeezed his finger once, reassuringly. She was still here, grounding him, checking in with him.

Barry nodded. “Uh huh?”

Lup stopped and turned to face him. “I just want you to know, I trust you too, Bear, completely and utterly, and that means I trust you to tell me whenever you’re ready.”

Barry didn’t bother bluffing. He didn’t want to. Instead, he wrapped Lup in a hug. He wasn’t ready today, but soon. He’d tell her soon.

[fandomsnstuff]

Day 7: Aftermath

Last day of @blupjeansweek 2023!

This is a followup to day 5: Bones

Read it on AO3

Summary: Lup meets her future mother in law

Lup and Barry sit in her parked car, staring at the house across the street. It's a cute little white picket fence number. There's a stone path bordered by rows of tiny blue forget-me-nots that leads to a manicured garden, then a wraparound porch with a set of comfy patio furniture to one side of the baby blue door.

Lup turns to Barry and says, "you're sure about this?"

His eyes are fixed on the house, and he nods. She presses her thumb against his cheeks, "unclench your jaw."

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. I'm okay."

"Wait here," she squeezes his arm, "I'll signal you when it's time."

She gets out of the car and crosses the street. She takes a closer look around as she heads for the door. The forget-me-nots poke up through the spaces between the stones. The garden has two different rose bushes in it. There's a little garden statue of a teddy bear in overalls sitting on a side table on the porch.

She raises her fist and hesitates. She's practised what she wants to say, but there's no telling how this'll go. But Barry wants to do this so by god, they're doing it.

She knocks.

It's a long, agonising minute before the door opens. Behind it is a small round woman with blue eyes and short grey hair that has just a whiff of curliness to it. She looks confused. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Marlena Bluejeans?"

"Yes…"

"Hi, uh, my name is Lup. A little over a year ago now, I bought your son's house? And-"

Marlena sighs. "I'm going to stop you there. That house stopped being my problem after I sold it, yet almost every owner since has ended up here. If you think strange things are happening, either suck it up or leave. Goodbye."

She starts to close the door, Lup puts her hand on it to stop it and half-shouts, "wait!" She takes a breath. "You knew your son was still in that house, didn't you? You knew what kind of things he was experimenting with."

Marlena keeps her eyes down, but doesn't close the door any further. "I'm sorry, young lady. If you're here to try to get me to speak to him to calm him, I can't. I tried. I held onto that house for two years trying to talk to him, but he's not himself. He couldn't recognize me. He's angry and volatile, all he wants is to be alone."

Lup remembers Barry telling her that by the time he came back to himself after dying, a family had already moved in. He assumed he just hadn't manifested until then, but what Marlena's saying… he was there, but he wasn't aware or in control.

Marlena looks up at her, and her eyes are brimming with tears. "I'm sorry you had to meet him like this," she says, "he's… he was such a nice boy. And a good son, who always came to see his mother."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bluejeans," Lup says. "But the thing is, I'm pretty stubborn. And I wasn't going to let a cranky ghost chase me away." Marlena smiles a little bit, and it urges Lup forward, "so we eventually came to a truce, and started talking, and we rifled through some old books he had stashed in the attic and, well."

She turns and waves to the car. They can only see the top of his head as he gets out, but once he rounds the car and starts crossing the street, she hears Marlena gasp behind her. She turns back and says, "we found a ritual. And after a lot of prep, we tried it, and… yeah."

Marlena puts a hand on her arm, eyes shimmering, "did you bring my boy back?"

"I did."

"Oh-" she rushes past her and meets Barry halfway down the path, crushing him in a hug. "Oh, my sweet boy. My son." She pulls back and takes his face in her hands, examining him. "Look at you," she says reverently.

Barry smiles, tears rolling down his cheeks every time he blinks. "Hi, mom."

[kipperlillyforpresident]

Ruben, Bakarath, and shatterstar

Ruben Hopclap - If you were a celebrity, how much would you interact with your fandom?

I want to say that I'd be mature, and I wouldn't look. I want to say that! I do!

... I would absolutely have an alt account and be name-searching myself. I would be in my own tumblr tag and weeping.

I wouldn't, uh, tell my fandom that I was doing this. Again, alt account. I would probably keep a pretty respectful distance as a celeb. But while lurking...? Oh boy.

Bakarath - Share an inside joke - with or without context.

foreman has been kicked out of the prince frame for his deeds. kutner will replace him, our sweet prince.

Shatterstar - What's something silly that makes you unreasonably mad?

spoilers for TAZ: balance ahead!

Barry Bluejeans is one of the only - if not THE ONLY - TAZ:B character to have anything defined about his family. We know that his father, Gregor, died when he were too young to know him. His mother, Marlena, had soft gray hair when he were born, and was the most wonderful woman who ever lived.

This information is shared with us, like, LITERALLY as soon as he's important again in the narrative. It is one of the first things we learn about Barry Bluejeans, The Lover, and not Barry Bluejeans, the one-off NPC. This is from a speech which, at least as a mentally ill 15 year old, I thought was deeply iconic.

And yet. And yet!

PEOPLE JUST LOVE TO IGNORE IT! I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU IGNORE IT! literally all we know about barrys dad is that a) he died before barry got to know him b) he's named gregor. and. YET!

I see sooo many fics positing that he had a strong relationship to his dad, and/or that his father was named Sildar or Angus. And it's like... no!! WE KNOW THAT DAMN DADS NAME!! dont fuck with me!!!

thanks for asking!

[theadventurezoneoftruth]

Here is what we know about Marlena Bluejeans:

She had “soft gray hair” when Barry was born.

Her partner (I’m assuming husband, but even that much was never formally stated), Gregor, died when Barry was “too young to remember him”.

She and Barry probably had a very close relationship, as Barry describes her as “the most wonderful woman who ever lived”.

Do you guys want some extrapolation based off of all that? Because that’s what I’m gonna do.

The fact that she was already graying when Barry was born implies to me she was probably of advanced maternal age. I would pose the counter-argument of her being a secret anime protagonist, but the phrasing of “when [Barry] was born” seems like it isn’t her natural color. 

Knowing Barry as a character - and drawing slightly upon Prosecutor Olsons comment that he “spent his whole life locked in libraries and studies,” I think it’s reasonable to presume Marlena was well educated, and had a large collection of books that Barry would end up enraptured in. She probably was thorough in bringing him to museums and teaching him about the wonders of the world. My personal headcanon is that both she and Gregor were scholars, focused mainly on areas of magic. I think that she and Gregor waited longer to have a child so they could focus on their research and establish themselves financially. 

And then Gregor died. Sometime when Barry was young - I think the phrasing would be “before [he] was born” if he died in that time period, but given that Barry couldn’t remember him, that puts it sometime within his first three years of life. 

This is where I start delving more into headcanon. Obviously she’d be devastated. Her husband is dead, and now it’s up to only her to raise this child. And based on my own parents experience (of having children later in life), this child who they probably had to work very hard to conceive. It’s tragic and it’s unfair.

Stricken by grief, she decides to turn to necromancy. She’s able to get her hands on high-level spell books with her reputation as a scholar, under the guise of researching them. She gets extremely close - close enough that it’s a miracle the Raven Queen didn’t send an emissary - but never actually does any rituals. I picture a dramatic moment in which she’s gathering the final ingredients and a young Barry runs into the room asking for help, but the specifics don’t matter. She doesn’t go through with it because she’s reminded that she needs to be here, needs to be alive for him.

And life goes on. She loves her son and she raises him. He discovers her old necromancy books, she firmly punishes him, this only intrigues him more. He reads this as a simple moment of teen rebellion. Barry has no idea that his mother is terrified he’ll follow in her footsteps.

Barry then leaves for the IPRE mission. The phrasing that she was the most wonderful woman “who ever lived” could imply she had already passed, but a) this dialogue was delivered over 100 years later b) this angst I’m writing relies on the assumption she’s alive. She’d be decently getting up in the years at that point.

And her son is taken from her. Another exit, cruel and unfair.

Because the IPRE was able to visit Greg Grimaldis’s casino, we know the plane survived. And it is possible, that Marlena too, survived. 

She feels as though her punishment is living.

But she lives the rest of her life as fully as she can - helping to educate, helping to rebuild. And she feels certain that when she does die, The Raven Queen will punish her for dabbling in dark magic.

And she does die. She is faced with the Raven Queen herself.

And she is offered a position as a reaper.

Because with her presence, Lady Istus can feel a snag in fate. Her employment is a favor that may possibly never be needed. But it is vital that she remain. And so she does, finding joy in it. She is reunited with Gregor, and although her existence not being explainable frustrates her to no end, they are happy. They wonder why their son is not among them.

Almost one hundred years later, two emissaries of the Raven Queen, from another planar system, arrive, looking for Marlena Bluejeans. The knot on Istus’s knitting is unfurled.

[yewwowsubmawine]

lady doodle

[she-jo]

thatsdelightful replied to your post: I have a lot of meta about Marlena bluejeans and...

Man just give me all of it. How did she raise that farm boy!

-cracks knuckles-

So, Marlena came from a hard working, farm family and she raised Barry essentially the same way she was except probably a little more open-minded than her family had been. This was a tough, brawny gal  (Barbarian class). She and Gregor operated as equals in every respect. They both did the housework, cooking, the child rearing (for what little Gregor was alive for it) and the hard labor of the farm. Gregor’s death didn’t make her cold-hearted either, but it did toughen her up even more than she already was. Though, Barry can tell you there were times he’d wake up in the morning and no lights would be on in the house, no breakfast cooking on the stove (his mother was a very early riser), and he’d tiptoe to her room to find her curled in her bed still wide awake and tearful. 

Marlena put a lot of emphasis on Barry’s education. She did whatever she could to get books in the house, made sure that he studied but that his portion of the household chores were done. Much like Gregor, she and Barry were equal partners when it came to their lives. For Marlena it was “It’s you and me kid, we’re all we’ve got.” 

But for all her tough-as-nails exterior, Marlena was FUN. She was kind and made sure Barry knew he was loved. Sure, she made him throw feed and muck stalls, but after? After, they were strolling down to the corner store for ice cream cones or reading bed time stories or playing games in the yard. 

[comradelup]

If you're still taking them, how about 19 fluff with blupjeans? (Or Barry's mom adopting Lup and by extension Taako if you wanted bc your post got me Thinking 👀)

hey. hey anon. i made that post because i was writing this scenario exactly 👀 when writing for myself i take prompts from lists and i did this exact one 👀 are you perhaps a mind reader?

<><><>

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, babe?” Lup asks, coming up to Barry and hugging him from behind.

Barry barely reacts to her presence, used to her sneaking up on him. He scrubs a dirty plate with a sponge and says, “Uh, a couple things.”

“Liiiike?” Lup casts Mage Hand to start drying the growing stack of clean dishes. Her flesh hands stay wrapped around Barry’s middle.

“Home, mostly,” he admits, and Lup gets it. Everyone’s hesitant to bring the mood down by bringing up The H-Word.

“Hm? What about home?” she asks, cuddling into him.

“Just, like, what if things were different, you know? What if we met when the apocalypse wasn’t happening?”

“Technically, we did meet before then,” Lup says, “But I know what you mean. Though it did take us four decades to get together, you might’ve died before I could tell you how much I love you.”

Barry laughs a little. “I love you too. Um, I think I wouldn’t have been so slow if I were mortal.”

“Yeah, this mission is, like, as old as you, right? About fifty years?” Lup asks, “When I was fifty I was still living with aunts and uncles. Me ‘n Taako were just kids. Gods, humans have such short lifespans.”

“I think, uh, elves are just immortal,” Barry says, but his voice seems a bit far away.

Lup nudges his head with her forehead. “I can tell you’re still thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’, babe. Spit it out.”

Barry chuckles, and this time he’s… nervous? He says, “I just… you know, uh, I think my mother would be proud if I, you know, brought you home.”

Well. That wasn’t what Lup was expecting. Quietly, she asks, “You think so?”

Barry, who’s such a momma’s boy that he’s told everyone tens of times how cool his mom was, says, “Uh yeah! I think so.” He looks over his shoulder and smiles at her.

She smiles back. “For what it’s worth, I think my auntie would like you too.”

He smiles to himself as he goes back to his chore. “Glad to hear it.”

“I mean, she’d think you’re too quiet, but she’d find it endearing.” Lup kisses his cheek. “Kinda like I do.”

Barry laughs. “My mom would say you’re, uh, too skinny.”

Lup makes a loud noise of outrage. “Barold! I am not! I am voluminous, I am curvaceous, I am—”

“‘You have hips and shoulders but no stomach,’” he says, “That’s what she’d tell you.”

“Okay well sor-ry that we can’t all be built like her mountain of a son!”

Barry laughs again. “She’d look at you for half a second then start feeding you.”

“My brother is a chef,” Lup says, exasperated, as sinks into their embrace. “I eat plenty.”

“‘Clearly not enough,’ she’d say,” he says, in what is apparently an imitation of his mother.

“I can’t even impress her in your brain?”

“Oh no, she’d love you! It’s just, uh, yeah. She’d want to put meat on your bones.”

Lup laughs, and kisses Barry’s cheek again. “Well I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time I get to make dinner.”

[kravkalackin]

Taako stared at the gold coin, holding it up between his fingers and halfheartedly inspecting it. He’d figured out everything he could about it by now, he just didn’t know why. 

As hectic as it had been, he could clearly remember getting it. They were all surrounding Gundren, backing up as the flames grew and Merle tried to calm him down. He barely caught sight of Barry glancing at him, before seeming to come to some split second decision. 

He felt him slip the coin into his hand, and before he could ask if this was really the time, Barry quickly whispered to him. 

“I’ll explain if we survive, but I feel like I trust you.” 

Taako survived, but poor stupid Barold unfortunately didn’t, so there went any hope for an explanation. 

Or at least, that was what he thought. 

It took a while, figuring out the enchantment on the coin. Took even longer figuring out how to essentially rewind the thing. Maybe he should have mentioned it to Magnus or Merle, or hell even to the Director. Barry clearly knew more about what was going on that he let on, it could be some sort of trap. 

But he didn’t tell anyone, and now it felt like he was too deep into it to do it. 

For what was probably the hundredth time, Taako restarted the enchantment and the coin began to speak. 

‘Your name is Barry Bluejeans. You are afraid of the dark. Your very favorite thing to do is swim in very cold water on a very hot day. Your father Gregor died when you were too young to know him and your mother Marlena had soft white hair when you were born and was the most wonderful woman to ever live. You remember them Barry but you have forgotten so much, and right now you feel a dull weight in your chest. It is the weight of a love that redeemed and defined you but you’ve forgotten who that weight belongs to. I’m you, just moments ago, and I remember who that weight belongs to, and I can help you remember too.’ 

It was Barry’s voice undoubtedly, but it didn’t sound like the Barry Taako remembered. It was more tired, sadder, certainly more eloquent. 

The coin continued. 

‘There are certain things I can’t explain, gaps in your memories that until now, you wouldn’t even think to notice are there. Ask yourself, what was the name of the town you grew up in? The city? Don’t look outside, just from memory tell me, what is the color of the sky? You can’t, can you?’

Taako grew up traveling around. He didn’t have a hometown, but the result was still the same. He couldn’t remember where his aunt had lived, what part of faerun his grandfather’s farm had been in. Was it even in Faerun? The color of the sky was blue, but when he closed his eyes and thought there was a moment, a flicker of uncertainty. Had it always been that way? 

‘Barry, there is something blocking these memories. I can’t tell you what, but I can lead you to something that might give us the answers. There is a dwarf heading to a place called Wave Echo Cave. I’ve secured us employment with him as a body guard. Just look and act the part and hopefully no one will notice.’ 

The thing that was blocking memories was the voidfish. Taako knew that, mystery solved, go home everyone. 

But it seemed like something was still missing. 

‘I can’t tell you what the item we’re looking for is, but trust me you’ll know it when you see it. Just be sure not to use it. It’s- the item really isn’t the important part, it’s who should be with it that is.’ 

The hand holding the umbrastaff tightened somewhat as he prepared for the next part. He didn’t know why he always reacted this way, but it felt like someone was stabbing him in the chest. 

‘There are two ways you might find her. If she’s a ghost wearing a long red robe, do whatever she says. Trust her with your life. Believe me, it’s worth it. She’s worth it. If she’s not though, she might not... she won’t know you. She’ll be an elf, and the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. If you instantly fall in love that’s a pretty good sign you’re on the right track. Her name is Lup, and if you find her do not let go.’ 

Taako was pretty sure that whoever this person Barry had been looking for was dead. He was pretty sure he stole her umbrella. He said she might be a ghost though, so maybe it wasn’t too much of a problem. Not that it mattered, since Barry was dead too. 

‘Sidenote, if you meet an elf who is almost as beautiful and you instantly trust, even though he might be kind of an asshole? Then you’re probably on the right track.’ 

It didn’t say his name, but Barry had said he trusted him. Taako was a beautiful asshole, so it made sense. 

‘I have one last warning for you Barry, and then you need to get moving. I’ll admit, this last one isn’t going to make a lot of sense, but you need to trust me. If you ever find yourself on the moon, you need to run. Leave, no questions asked. Fight them if you have to, but just get out of there. They cannot be trusted. She cannot be trusted. She’ll promise to help you, that they’re doing something good, that they’re saving this world. It might even seem like it’s everything we’re looking for. Memories returned, but it’s not all of them, it’s not the truth. 

Now, get going. I have some maps and supplies on the desk. Make sure to leave some blood in the pod before you go though, just as a safety measure.’ 

And then it cut out. There wasn’t anything after that, and no explanation of where he had been when this was taking place. It left Taako with far more questions than answers. 

Sighing heavily, Taako restarted the coin again. 

The moon base would be looking for him soon. He should get moving. 

[ohsweetflips]

a study in love, conducted by barry j. bluejeans (a taz balance/blupjeans fanfic)

characters: barry bluejeans, lup, all of the seven birds but this is a story mainly about barry and lup

relationships: blupjeans

content: romance, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, happy endings, a century long love story

WC: 21,906

summary: "He finally understood that he was made of love, defined by love, and he wanted nothing more than to share it with the world." A century long study on how to be in love was a beautiful thing. Conducted by Barry J. Bluejeans, Head Science Officer for the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Barry Bluejeans knew love.

Barry loved the small farm-town he lived in. Their land was fertile, the weather treated them kindly, and the residents even more so, especially after his father passed. He hadn’t been old enough to remember him, but he would never forget the choruses of, “Your father was a good man, Barry,” and “Are you ever gonna go by Sildar? It was what your pop always called you, you know?” that he would hear for the rest of his life.

(Or, at least, what Barry thought would be for the rest of his life, before he knew that the rest of his life would be very, very long and that these people, from the town he loved, would not be in it for much longer.)

“You are who you wish to be,” his mother, tender and loving Marlena, said to Barry, age nine, cupping his round cheeks gently. “You are Bartholomew Sildar Jean Bluejeans-Hallwinter and, whether you are Bartholomew Bluejeans or Sildar Hallwinter or what have you, you will be known and you will be so, so loved.”

Friends of his father called him Sildar . His mother called him Bartholomew and Barold and Barry and my dear . Barry answered to all of it, but called himself Barry . Never his full name. Too much of a mouthful, too much of a title and, sometimes, too intimate. Whenever someone used his full name, it felt personal, like moments that were few and far between. He couldn’t just waste them.

Barry loved his studies. Sickness found him at a young age and, while the other children played in the dusty streets and the pouring rain, Barry found better comfort, better solace, when his small fingers wrapped around the bindings of books. And, when he grew taller and wider and his lungs started to gain back the strength they lost, hands started to wrap around quills and crumpled sheets up paper and his view was no longer just turned down to words that people before him already wrote but, instead, it began to look up as well. Looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky and the leaves blowing in the wind and the clouds blowing across the sky and the birds singing all that they knew.

So often, Barry pushed open his window and felt a warm breeze brush against him as sunlight peered into his room—always covered in papers and books—and he breathed everything he saw in and watched and learned and loved.

Barry loved his home. He loved the fencing around their fields, and the chickens that scratched at the dirt and followed his mother wherever she went. He loved the desk he built for himself when he was fifteen that would remain his for the next twenty-three years and, in that, would stand through the countless reports and books and papers and microscopes and samples and clothes left on top of it.

He loved the safety his home provided. The town around him was so kind, but so often the world was not, and Barry would rather not be one to experience it. He loved being able to step out his door and look up and down and everywhere, and still have the safety of his home ready to embrace him. Barry studied and wrote and read and, through everything he learned about the world around him and what it held in store for those who wished to see it all, Barry was safe.

Barry loved his mother, Marlena Rosemarie Bluejeans (and, later, Marlena Rosemarie Bluejeans-Hallwinter). She was the best person Barry knew he would ever know. She was kind and gentle, with enough warmth from her smile to replace the sun and the softest, greying hair Barry had ever seen. She was soft and, after the passing of Barry’s father, she was strong, though Barry never thought that one contradicted the other. His mother was wonderful and powerful. His mother was always there.

“Go, my dear,” she told Barry, age eleven, when the new library had just opened up in town. With her hands gently on his shoulders, she guided him to the front door and, when he looked up at her, blue eyes wide behind glasses that were too big for his face, she smiled warmly down at him. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

“Go, Barry,” she told Barry, age eighteen, when he received a letter of acceptance from Headmaster Roland of The Academy for the Magically Gifted. She reached across the table and took Barry’s hands, always feeling like they were buzzing with magic, in her own. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

“Go, and show others what you know,” she told Barry, age thirty-four with a handful of degrees under his belt. In his hands, he clutched an application to be a professor at the very same Academy he attended all those years ago. The Headmaster already told him that he had a position lined up for him, all he had to do was apply. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

She was always there, greeting Barry with the warmth of a thousand suns.

Barry Bluejeans knew love. He felt like he was made of it.

(finish on ao3!! reblogs/comments/kudos/likes are all greatly appreciated <3)

[noodyl-blasstal]

Bones - Blupjeans Week day 5

My @blupjeansweek prompts are part of a story find the others here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | or on Ao3

Barry woke up warm. Barry woke up warm because Lup ran warm. Barry woke up warm because Lup ran warm and she was pressed against his back with her arm slung over his side and her head pressed into his shoulder. He should probably move. Sure, they cuddled sometimes, but this wasn’t that kind of leaning against each other watching a movie cuddle. Right now, Lup didn’t know what she was doing. She was asleep and probably dreaming about someone else and she was going to wake up any second just to be repulsed by what was going on. Or… well, maybe not, because she always said he was great for cuddling. But still, he couldn’t take advantage. He tried to gently wriggle free, but Lup just groaned and snaked her arm further round his middle. Barry froze. If he kept moving he’d wake her, the disco ball was still spinning gently above them and only the dimmest light crept through the gauzy curtains. There was no way it was people o’clock yet and Lup was on driving duty today, ergo, staying still was the best thing to do. Lup got more sleep, he didn’t have to worry about her feeling pressured to drive when she was too tired, and maybe he could slip free once she’d settled again. Barry relaxed, Lup nuzzled his back and he drifted into sleep again.

-

They didn’t talk about it at breakfast or once they hit the road. He’d woken up again hours later with Lup sprawled across his chest, his arm round her, and her legs tangled with his. She’d smiled up at him, sleep mussed and groggy, kissed him on the cheek, mumbled “morning, Bear,” then just gotten up as if this was completely normal for them. At breakfast the server asked how married life was and she told him it was definitely and absolutely different to the 17 years they’d been together at before they tied the knot. Then she held Barry’s hand, and kissed his knuckles, and said “... right babe?” Barry had nodded seriously, like he was in on the joke. Like he was her husband and she was his wife and they were both so tired of the question. She packed up the bags and held his hand on the way out of the parking lot “... just in case anyone’s looking….” so Barry rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and smiled fondly at her, just in case.

– “Okay Bear, you’re on directions now, looks like the satnav has no clue where we are.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll happen. Means we’re nearly there though!” Barry straightened in his seat but kept his hand looped loosely in Lup’s. Sure, no one from the motel could see them anymore, but she hadn’t moved and he hadn’t moved, and it was fine. Friends held hands, it didn’t mean anything.

“Great! It’s been a while since we stopped at the giant ball of wool, can’t wait to stretch out.”

Barry ruefully let Lup know they were approaching a turn. Every time she let go to operate the gears he worried she wouldn’t put her hand back, that it’d be the last taste of that fondness and he wouldn’t even know it until it was over. “Okay, now it’s the third on the left, but that’s going to take a while on this track. It gets pretty bumpy.”

Lup grinned. “I think I can handle it.” She said, and grabbed his hand again. “But I’ll hold on, just to be safe.”

The car juddered along the track and Barry’s teeth rattled in his skull. He usually hated this bit of the journey, but today he couldn’t focus on anything but the bright warmth on his palm. “Here we are!” He pointed to a wooden framed house with a yellow porch, orange shutters, and a smiling woman in the process of leaping out of her rocking chair to run down the steps.

“Kids!” Marlena yelled happily as Lup parked the car. Lup scrambled out first and was immediately enveloped in a huge hug. “Lup! It’s so nice to finally meet you in person! You’re just as beautiful as you are on video!” Barry eased himself out and stood awkwardly to the side. “Was the drive okay, dear? I hope you didn’t get too tired. Barry, I can’t believe you left her to do the boneshaker track.”

Barry stopped himself before fully reverting to his moodiest teen self and snarking back. “I missed you too, Mummig.” He said with a wry grin. “Now, can I have a hug too? Or have you replaced me? I must admit, I thought it would take slightly longer.”

“I work fast, Bear.” Said Lup, shooting him some finger guns before retreating to the car to forage for her bags.

Barry shook his head, then scooped a laughing Marlena up into his arms. Her soft grey hair tickled his nose, she smelled of rosemary, slowly caramelising onions, and home home home. Barry should have come back sooner. It was so easy to get caught up in research and time just slipped away without him noticing, but it had been too long since he got to hug her like this. He was going to chop and stack so much wood, restock the coal shed, and do everything else a penitent absent son could set his mind to while he was here.

“Sorry Barry, I just wanted to give my daughter in law a squeeze, can you blame me?” Marlena said, close to his ear. Hopefully close enough that Lup hadn’t heard. Barry had no idea how Marlena had clocked his feelings for Lup already, but there was no way he was accidentally telling her via the medium of his mother.

“Oh! Did Barry tell you about the accident at the motel?” Lup looked shame faced. Oh no, of course she’d heard, and she thought that Barry had been disappointed and complained about it? She already felt so needlessly bad about it… Maybe fake collapsing would get him out of this… it worked with the school play when he was 9.

“The what, sorry Lup love, what do you mean? Is everything okay?”

“I’m really thirsty.” Barry announced far too loudly. He couldn’t let this conversation continue happening. No way no how.

“Oh, of course, sorry love, I shouldn’t leave you both stood out here, let me take you inside and get you settled in your room. I made up your bed and popped the trundle in your room, Barry. You were okay to share, weren’t you?” Barry didn’t miss the mischief in her voice, maybe he should just drive away? Marlena wouldn’t miss him too much with Lup around, and Barry could go back to the cryptid motel and make weird sculptures out of roadside junk or something. What could go wrong?

“Lead the way, Bluejeanseseses.” Lup saluted, two rucksacks perched on her shoulders. Barry shook his head fondly and took both of their elbows. It was the gentlemanly thing to do after all.

“We’ll meet you back in the kitchen, Mummig, we just need to dump our stuff.”

“Don’t rush on my account.” Marlena winked at him and Barry blushed violently red. He wasn’t convinced he was going to survive 5 days of this, the first 10 minutes had already been touch and go.

– “Listen…” Said Barry, as he stopped Lup in the hallway in front of a door with a sign which read: Barryabratory - enter if you dare “... the thing is…”

“Barryabratory?” Lup was delighted. This was bad. She’d already pulled out her phone to take a picture, which likely meant that Taako was also going to refuse to let him live this one down.

“I was a baby.” Barry held up his hands to protest his innocence, Lup glared at him, seeing straight through his lies.

“... a baby of…?”

“Fifteen…” There was no point in lying, the faster he admitted it, the quicker she’d get bored of teasing him about it. Lup snickered. “But…” He bravely soldiered on. “... just to warn you. This room? This is Barry unfiltered. I know your nerd radar is solid and you clocked me, loudly…” Barry pretends to glare. “...on day one. But, this is probably… more… you know… than… that.” He finished lamely.

“Full frontal Barry.” Said Lup solemnly. Barry didn’t even know how to process that. “This I need to see!” Lup lunged for the door handle. “I wanna know what extra nerdy shit baby Barry was into.”

She tumbled through the door and froze. Oh. It was worse than he thought. Marlena hadn’t moved anything… he definitely thought he’d asked her to move the animal skulls. Lup was going to think she’d been living with a serial killer, this was bad, this was probably really bad.

“Barry, are those real?”

Yep, she was pointing straight at the dead animal bits, she was going to run screaming and there was no way to convince her not to because ‘his childhood room was full of dead stuff he collected’ seemed like a big old red flag. “Er… sorry… I can move them? I… uh… I mean, yeah. Yeah they are, real, that is.”

“Rad!” Lup said happily, and walked over. “Can I?” She gestured towards the shelf. Barry nodded, barely breathing, waiting in the doorway to make sure she didn’t think he was crowding her. “This one’s corvid, right? Krav’s gonna be so jealous!”

Oh. Oh! Lup didn’t care? Of course, of course Lup didn’t care because she was the most perfect woman to ever grace the earth and she thought his skull collection was ‘rad’. So now he had to fall even more helplessly in love with her. There was nothing he could do to stop it, there was nothing he wanted to do to stop it.

“Ooooh, tell me about these jars?” Lup pointed at Percival, one of Barry’s earliest pickling experiments. “Then you definitely have to tour me round those rocks… Wait! Is that stoat wearing a top hat?” She darted over to inspect Stanley.

“Yeah, I, well I had to make one to fit, but then I had a bit of leftover material so I did the matching bowtie too.” Said Barry as he walked over to join her. He prodded gently at the bowtie, nothing happened. “It used to light up but the battery might have gone by now.”

Lup squeaked in delight. “Barry, I adore you.”

[youhearstatic]

Barry Bluejeans knows what's happening the moment the first petal appears.

And he knows how it will end.

Chrysanthemums (Lovesick) - A Hanahaki Blupjeans fic.

“Uncle Darry is really sick,” Marlena told her son honestly. “And he’s not going to get better.”

“The flowers are hurting him?”

Marlena nodded. “The flowers are… Uncle Darian loves someone very much, someone who doesn’t love him back and…”

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why don’t they love him back? Can’t we ask? Make them?”

“Oh, sweetie… Well, sometimes people just don’t. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s not that man’s fault that he doesn’t love Darian and it’s not Darian’s fault for loving him. He just does and… well, it’s like his body doesn’t know what to do with all this love. So it makes flowers. But there’s too many and… they make it hard to breathe. And eventually he won’t be able to at all.”

The newest chapters are up now on AO3! Thanks for reading! Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments appreciated! 

[teruthecreator]

Who She Wants to Be

ummmmmm, so this was supposed to be a short lil’ thing based on @tazdelightful‘s blupjeans baby that i’ve had many a thought about because i needed a reason to start writing again

buuuuuuut then i made it 11 pages long and oops! pobody’s nerfect i guess!! (theres a brief mention of drugs/drug use, but its pot and its also like literally two lines but just thought id mention) 

She was born in a ring of fire. Ravens croaked and cawed, perched diligently all around the Raven Queen’s chamber, watching with beady eyes as she was birthed. Blessed by two powerful goddesses upon birth, she opened her eyes to a shadowy room and the teary-eyed faces of her mother and father. Her mother gasped at the sight, while her father could barely contain the tears that were flowing in streams down his face. A dark mass, looming past those faces, seemed to radiate a loving warmth from its being as it addressed the two:

“She is beautiful,” Her parents nodded in response, too overwhelmed to produce a verbal response.

“She’s our beautiful Marlena,” her father whispered hoarsely, and then a strange mass passed over her line of sight as he moved to cup her face.

She was born in a ring of fire, in the presence of two powerful goddesses, in the realm of the Raven Queen.

And all Marlena Bluejeans could do, in that exact moment following her birth, was scream as loud as humanly possible.

                                                             ---

At age four and a half (the half was extremely important), Marlena decided she only wanted to wear polka dotted corduroy pants, and only polka dotted corduroy pants.

“Lena, sweetie, please come back!” Her father could be heard shouting down the hall as Marlena races to the steps, giggling all the while. She reaches the stairs and clumsily bounds down them to the first floor, her father’s worried voice echoing through the large home. On the first floor, she makes a mad dash to the kitchen, where her mother was making lunch.

Upon arrival, Marlena immediately ducks behind her mother’s legs, still giggling like a madwoman. Her mother pauses her vicious stirring of something to peer at her runt of a daughter, a mischievous smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

“What’s goin’ on, lil’ stinker?” she asks, just as her husband rounds the corner and skids to halt. Marlena giggles even more as her father takes two steps into the kitchen, then leans over the island counter to desperately catch his breath. Not even her mother can hold in her laughter, as she lets out a snort and asks, “You good, Bear?”

He nods his head into the counter, taking a couple deep breaths before lifting his body off of the counter and presenting the lilac purple t-shirt he’s been clutching in his hands.

“Shirt. Please. Wear.” He pants, which prompts his wife to finally get a proper look at her daughter. And, just as her husband implied, she was most certainly not wearing a shirt. Her favorite pair of purple-and-pink polka dotted corduroy pants, yes, but definitely not a shirt.

Marlena giggles some more as her mother shakes her head.

“We’re not goin’ out anywhere, babe, just let her wear the pants.” She says, taking the few steps to reach her husband and kiss him on the cheek. “Let her be rogue for the short time she can be.”

“B-But, honey, she needs a shirt--”

“And you need a new pair of work pants because, if last I checked, somebody ‘accidentally’ burned a hole in his old pair. But you don’t see me dragging your ass out to the store any time soon, huh?” Her husband considers this, face tinted with an embarrassed blush, before conceding.

“Alright, alright,” he says, causing both mother and daughter to cheer. He smiles and shakes his head, scooping up Marlena and pointing a playfully-strict finger at her. “But when we go to dinner with Uncle Taako and Uncle Kravitz tomorrow, you are wearing a shirt.”

Marlena giggles and nods her head, though she knows well enough that her father will give up again; just like he’s done countless times before.

                                                              ---

At age eight, Marlena learns Magic Missile. Which is, admittedly, pretty great; figuring no one taught her Magic Missile. But it’s also pretty bad because that means no one is expecting her to know Magic Missile, which makes them finding out even more of a catastrophe.

“Pshaw, psh psh pew! Take that!” Marlena cries out from the living room of her uncles’ apartment, playing pretend-magic with her Uncle Taako’s Krebstar. She bounds over the plush couch and does a tuck-and-roll as she avoids shots from her invisible assailants.

Nearly ten feet away, in the kitchen, her Uncle Kravitz worries.

“Love, is it really safe for her to be playing with your magical focus?” he says, chopping a head of iceberg lettuce with practiced ease. “What if she gets hurt?”

Taako pushaws at his husband’s remark, cracking some black pepper into the sauce he’s been working on. “The most that kid can do with that thing is let off a few sparks. And if it keeps her busy, then fine by me. I only have so much energy to keep up with a direct spawn of Lup’s energy and cook a baller dinner at the same time.” Kravitz chuckles under his breath, careful to keep his knowledge of Taako’s legitimate love and adoration of his niece to himself. He knows for a fact that that girl could ask for anything in the entire multiverse, and Taako would find a way to give her it and then some.

“As long as you’re certain--” Kravitz’s sentence is cut off by a loud exclamation of “ABRA-KA-FLIP-YOU!” before an even louder boom startles the pair. Taako’s already five feet ahead of Kravitz before he can even turn and notice the charred remains of a few priceless paintings on the wall of their living room, as well as the hole burned clean through the wall itself.

And, standing a couple of steps away from the wreckage, is the culprit; Marlena, looking both triumphant and terrified, clutching the Krebstar in a battle stance.

Both adults gape at the scene before them, unable to parse what exactly happened, when Marlena drops the Krebstar and takes a giant step backward.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” she says as tears begin to build in her eyes. Before they have the chance to fall, though, her uncle lets out a wheeze of laughter.

“Holy shit this is fucking incredible,” Taako wheezes out as he waves a hand over the wreckage, mending the wall and extinguishing the flames in a matter of seconds. “Bubbeleh, you do not need to apologize for some sick-ass casting.” This seems to both confuse Marlena and alarm Kravitz.

“Taako, she just burned a hole through our wall.” Kravitz says, taking a step toward his husband. “Th-This is an obvious sign of that unkempt magical energy Barry kept saying he was detecting on her as an infant. We need to do something about that.” Taako looks back to his husband and rolls his eyes, walking the short distance to his forgotten focus and hefting it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, what we’re gonna do is invest in some targets and get this girl her own wand.” he says as he ruffles Marlena’s hair. “Ch’girl got some crazy skills already and we haven’t even taught her anything.” He looks down to address his niece with a lazy grin. “But starting tomorrow we’re gonna be holding Magic Day at your momma’s house.”

Marlena’s eyes light up, and she lets out a gleeful noise as she hugs her uncle. Taako instinctively hoists her up into his free arm to hug her properly, and Kravitz sighs fondly at the two. Before Taako can notice, though, Kravitz makes his way back to the kitchen; where a forgotten dinner needs to be finished, and a Stone of Farspeech awaits a call to his coworkers.

                                                                ---

At age twelve, Marlena sits her parents down for a talk.

“You want to do what now?” Her mother asks skeptically, setting her morning cup of coffee on the table.

“I want to stay with traditional schooling.” Marlena repeats, her tone serious and unflinching even as both her parents eye her with concern and bafflement.

“But, sweetie, just last week you were complaining about those boys who keep asking you about your mother! Wouldn’t homeschooling fix that?” Her father says, hands folded in the way he does when he’s too nervous to figure out what to do with them.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t bother me enough to make me want to leave all my friends!” Marlena says.

“But it’s not like they’re giving you any new information.” Her mother adds with an accusing jab of her finger. “I’ve seen you sneaking around with Ango’s college textbooks; I know you know more than what you’re letting on! And we’re already teaching you magic, so what’s the big deal about us teaching you everything else?”

“You would learn at your own pace, and at your own leisure,” her father continues. “And just because it’s called ‘homeschooling’ doesn’t mean we’re going to force you to stay here. The rest of the family are all on-board with taking you in for weeks at a time to teach you their own tricks of the trade. Uncle Taako’s already called dibs on you for the next month!”

“You could graduate in, like, a year; just like your cousin! Doesn’t that sound great?” Her mother finishes with an enthusiastic grin, much like the one her father is also sporting. All the joy they seem to have about this idea is cut short when Marlena slams her hand down on the table.

“No!” She exclaims, her half-elf ears twitching slightly in frustration. “Because what you don’t get is that I don’t want to graduate in a year!” This causes her parents to both freeze, glancing nervously back at one another to see what the other might say. But Marlena gives them no time to say anything when she stands up and gestures angrily at nothing.

“Look, I get it. You guys both want what’s best for me, you love me, yadda yadda. But I’m not like my cousin. I don’t have a family I’m desperately trying to avoid because of personal reasons, and I don’t have a career I’m desperately trying to pursue. I’m just a kid who wants to do kid things like play kickball in Gym and write essays on topics I think are boring! You just don’t understand that I hide my knowledge from you guys because I want you to keep me in school!”

“It’s hard being me! Every other week I’m getting kidnapped by necromancers looking to use me; if I sneeze too hard sometimes I let out a bolt of lightning because I still don’t have full control of my magic; and people publish articles about me if I decide to wear the same jacket two days in a row! I just wanna be like every other middle schooler and go to school! And play soccer with friends after class! And eat Cheese Wiz straight from the can on a dare, even though I know it’ll make me puke! I just. Want. A normal life.”

She’s panting by the time she finishes, and there are angry tears building in the corners of her eyes. But she’s said what she had to say, and so she plops back down in her chair and holds her breath for a response.

“We…” Her mother mutters, eyes still wide and mouth slightly agape. “I…”

“Aw, beans,” her father says as he leans over to hug his daughter. “Lena, we didn’t know.”

“Well, we did--we did know all that other stuff--about the kidnapping and the jacket thing--but uh, we didn’t, uh. We didn’t realize how you felt.” Her mother fumbles for the right words, standing to also hug her daughter. “We’re sorry we hurt you, Len-Len…”

“You didn’t--” Marlena sniffles. “You didn’t hurt me. I just...I didn’t tell you. It’s my fault…” Her father shakes his head and reaches around to pet her hair.

“No blame game, missy. If anyone is at fault for this, it’s us,” he says sternly. “We’re your parents, and we should know when our daughter’s upset.” His wife nods as she wedges herself into the hug.

“Yeah, he’s right.” she adds with a reassuring squeeze of Marlena’s hand. “So the next time you feel something this strongly, you come and tell us. Because we’re still, uh, sorta new at this; and we don’t always catch when something’s bothering you.”

“Y-You’re not mad, though?” Marlena asks, squished between her parents in an awkward tangle of bodies and limbs. Her mother guffaws.

“Mad? Bullshit! I would’ve felt worse if we had gone through in pulling you out of school!” She pulls away from the hug to look her daughter in the eye. “Sweetie, we love you. We want what you want.”

“Unless that ‘want’ involves drugs, alcohol, crime, necromancy, et cetra.” Her husband adds.

“Yeah, except that. But if it’s something like school,” she rolls her eyes. “Go buck wild, sweetcheeks. Go play soccer out back. Play pranks on the shitty subs. Eat a bug. We just want you to be happy.” Both of Marlena’s parents lean in to kiss her on the forehead, causing Marlena to gag and push them away with a laugh. The three of them share in this moment for a while before the morning settles into its usual routine.

About an hour after the fact, Marlena clears her throat to catch the attention of her parents.

“Uh, I know we just got done with the whole ‘I wanna stay in school’ thing. But uh, if Uncle Taako still has the offer open…” She trails off, looking nervously around the room. Her mother laughs and pulls out her Stone of Farspeech.

“I’m sure he can re-clear his schedule.”

                                                             ---

At sixteen, Marlena gets caught redhanded at the Spring Formal.

“It’s not what you think!” Marlena quickly exclaims, even though it is exactly what it seems. If this was her mother, it would all be over. Guns ablazing; fury absolute; no survivors. If it were her father, then it would be weird. A lot of awkward coughs, little to no eye contact, and a very stiff conversation to follow at home.

But, somehow, Marlena got the worst out of any of these options; her Uncle Merle.

“Uh-huh, suuuuure,” he says, surveying the scene before him. “It sure doesn’t look like ya were just mackin’ on this young lady, riiight.” He turns his attention to the nervous girl standing beside Marlena. “And what’s yer name, hun?”

“U-Uhhhh,” she stutters, cheeks a fiery red. “Isabelle.” Merle nods his head and runs a hand through his crunchy beard.

“Well, Isabelle, why dontcha just run on back inside the cafeteria so me and my niece can have a chat, alright?” Isabelle cannot nod fast enough, and she gives Marlena one final glance before racing down the darkened hallway and back to the dance.

The silence left behind by Isabelle’s exit is deafening, and Marlena looks far too wired to try and explain what Merle just waddled into. Merle, on his end, looks like he has all the time in the world to address the fact that he just caught his niece kissing someone at a high school dance.

“Sooooo, I’m guessin’ I don’t need to give you a talk ‘bout the birds and bees.” Merle starts off, causing Marlena to immediately shake her head. “Figured. But, uh, that girl. She, uhhhhhh, you two dating?” Marlena looks around for a couple of seconds, before looking at her heel-clad feet and nodding her head. “Figured that, too. How long?”

There’s a shift in the air around them before Marlena mutters, “Four months,” and then promptly slaps a hand over her mouth. Merle chuckles and shakes his head.

“You been around me for how long, kid, and you didn’t think I’d try an’ Zone of Truth ya?”

“I’m not exactly thinking right now, okay!?” Marlena blurts out. “I’m kind of experiencing my Worst Case Scenario at the moment, so if you could excuse my lack of oversight on you casting the same damn spell for the millionth time that would be great!” She slaps a hand over her mouth again, then drops it when Merle laughs some more.

“Geez, somebody’s feisty tonight…” Merle looks around, then shakes his head. “Come on, this is no place for a talk this.”

And then, just like that; they’re in a simple office with a long table, surrounded by cushy office chairs, overlooking a sunset-filled sky.

Marlena rolls her eyes.

“Parley. Really?” She looks at him with an uninterested stare. Merle huffs at her.

“What? I’ll have you know I’ve had some great conversations in here!”

“Yeah, and most of them ended in you dying…” Marlena points out as she walks to the table and plops down in one of the chairs. Merle laughs again and sits across from her, a chess board suddenly appearing between them.

“Hopefully this one won’t,” he gestures to the board, a silent offer that is met with a silent confirmation. He moves his first piece and leans back in his chair.

“So. Four months is a long time to go without introducing her to the family.” Merle says, watching Marlena tense before she moves a pawn. “You had any plans on having her meet us orrrr….”

“I did.” she mutters, moving another piece. “That all kind of just got ruined, though, and she’s probably never going to talk to me again, so that’s something.”

“Why do you think that?” Merle moves a bishop.

“Because people have this ill-conceived notion that you’re all these big, intimidating people; and she’s gonna get scared that you’re all going to come after her, or somethin’...” she moves another pawn.

“That’s kind of a stupid thought,”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she’s your girlfriend!” Merle says as he captures one of Marlena’s pawns. “Listen, I may be no ‘romance expert’, but four months is a long time for relationships, at your age. If she wasn’t scared off by the thought of your family being the Seven Birds before, then I don’t think that’s suddenly going to change because one of them caught you two swappin’ spit in the Music hallway.”

“Gross,” Marlena mutters as she captures Merle’s knight.

“Listen, love is love. Once you love somebody, it takes a lot to change your mind about that.” Merle continues as he moves his rook. “Look, if Dav still hasn’t left me after alla my baggage, then I think there’s plenty of hope for you and your girl.” He captures Marlena’s king in one fell swoop and sits back again. “Now, I’m not saying you two are necessarily ‘in love’; but by the way she was lookin’ at you before she split, I think it’s pretty damn close. She wouldn’t let that go because of something dumb like this.”

Marlena stares at the board, a little dumbfounded, before letting out a little chuckle of her own.

“I guess you’re right…” She says, fiddling with her queen. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” Merle asks with a quirked brow. Marlena’s ears turn a little pink.

“It’s just I’m...afraid. Of what Mom and Dad will think.” At that, Merle snorts.

“Honey, you got several uncles and aunts who are in the LGBT community; and so are your own damn parents. No one’s gonna freak out at you liking girls.” Marlena huffs and shakes her head.

“Not about that!” She replies, her voice cracking. “About...the time…”

“About the fact that you waited four months to tell them you have a girlfriend?” Merle says, to which she nods. Merle pauses for a minute, running his soulwood hand through his beard a few times, before having an idea. “Well, how about I don’t tell anybody about this little fiasco, as long as you promise me that you’ll bring Isabelle to the next family dinner?” Marlena looks up at Merle in shock. “That way it gives you a coupla weeks to figure out how you wanna go about it. That sound good?”

“Y-Yes!” She blurts, this time without any magical prompting. “You got a deal!” She reaches over the table to seal the deal with a handshake, to which Merle complies. “And, uh, thanks. I guess. For being cool about this.”

Merle hops off the chair and shrugs.

“Eh, that’s what makes me the ‘Chill Uncle”. Now let’s get you back to the dance, so your principal doesn’t think I snuck off the property to smoke some pot.”

And in another blink of an eye, they were back in that dark hallway. Marlena smiles at Merle one last time before running off to meet up with her girlfriend, leaving Merle to linger in the hallway.

“Ah, young love.” He sighs wistfully, watching Marlena’s figure disappear around a corner. He stands there for about another two minutes before shrugging and reaching into his pocket.

“Well, guess no one’ll miss Ol’ Merle tonight.” He says, waddling towards the back entrance, joint in hand.

                                                              ---

At age eighteen, Marlena graduated second in her class. She claimed it was because of a class she struggled with her Junior year, but her closest circle of friends know it’s primarily because she didn’t want to seem like she was handed the title of valedictorian. And if that left her girlfriend of two years at the very top, then that was only a bonus.

At graduation, Marlena doesn’t look for her family in the seats, because she can hear them several miles away.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!!!” Her mother screams from her seat, much to the dismay of the security guard standing a mere two feet away. “HI BABY!!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!” Not even her father, who is the more reserved of the two, is holding back his enthusiasm; screaming his fair share of positive words and firing off a few harmless sparks of magic.

Marlena rolls her eyes with a fond grin as she takes her seat in her row. Isabelle is beside her, reaching out to take her hand and give it a good squeeze. Marlena looks at her and gestures with her head back toward the crowd.

“If anybody asks, they aren’t my family.” She says, earning a small chuckle from her girlfriend.

“Then whose dinner did I crash last weekend?” Isabelle asks, earning herself her own giggle. The ceremony cuts their banter short as their principal addresses the crowd. After a performance from the Senior Choir, Marlena gets up to deliver her speech to the crowd. Isabelle shoots her a thumbs up as she reaches the stage, and Marlena smiles as she makes it to the podium. She’s never been one for public speaking, but this speech has been rehearsed enough times to where she could recite it without the paper in front of her.

“I was born in a ring of fire.” She begins, her voice echoing down the rows of families. “Ravens stood attentive around the room when I was born, and I was blessed by the powers of both the Raven Queen and Istus. When I was born, it has been said that both life and death stood at a perfect balance. And then, I screamed.”

“I screamed and screamed, and even when my mother tried to comfort me, I still screamed. My father told me that I screamed for an entire day, and it took being place in my crib to get me to stop. Now, I don’t know what this means entirely, but I can assume it means what I’ve always thought of myself: that I’m not special. I’m not special because, at the end of the day, I screamed like every other baby that’s ever been born does. I’m not special because I still slept in a crib, and I still wore diapers, and I still crapped my pants.”

“So when the world started telling me I was special, I was confused. Who decided I was special? It certainly wasn’t me; nor was it my parents. I was a kid, like every other kid on the planet. And I grew up, just like everyone else does. Now I’m graduating, just like every other kid sitting in these seats in front of me. I’m no different than your child, or anyone else’s child.”

“So I guess what I’m trying to say is: make yourself who you want to be. Set your own goals; follow your own path. Don’t let what others try and tell you be what you are if that’s not how you feel. Be the person you want to be. And if that person goes off to college, then that’s great. If not, then that’s great too. Because society doesn’t have the right to decide who you get to be. The only person who gets to decide that is you.”

“I was born in a ring of fire, in the deepest part of the Astral Plane, surrounded by goddesses with immeasurable amounts of power. But I still screamed, just like every other baby did when they were born.”

Her speech was met with thunderous applause, and a lot of erratic cheering from her family members. And, as she went back to her seat and watched the first solo performance of the ceremony, she smiled to herself.

Her name is Marlena Bluejeans, and she is exactly who she wants to be.

[theadventurezoneoftruth]

having some feeling about Marlena Bluejeans here at midnight

[thatgirlonstage]

Jackdaw

Some fic for Barry J. Bluejeans because I don’t see enough of my soft chubby boy in the fandom. Although this is... a bit weird, both in style and in content. We know almost nothing about this boy’s backstory so I... went exploring. In a style I don’t think I’ve ever used before. So with that disclaimer, please enjoy.

Content Warning for implied sexual content

Spoilers for the Balance arc (although frankly it probably wouldn’t spoil you so much as you’d just have no idea what’s happening lol)

This is how the story goes: your name is Sildar Hallwinter. You’re five years old and technically head of one of the last remaining noble estates in the country, following your father’s death. You’ve already forgotten his face. In a couple more years, he’ll be nothing but the story of a stranger you never knew. Your grandmother is running the estate until you’re old enough to do it.

You like to watch the birds in the garden on a cool summer morning. You’ve learned how to sit very, very still so you don’t scare them away. You watch them pecking at the berries in the bushes and gulping them down. One morning, you pick a bunch of berries and spread them out on the ground in front of you. The birds hop and waddle their way over until they’re eating the berries withing arms’ reach, casting you the occasional inquisitive look. As the days go by, they get closer and closer, until you’ve taught them to eat out of your hand.

— — —

This is how the story goes: you wake up gasping, naked and submerged in some kind of tank, choking on something that fills your mouth, your eyes, ears, and nose. The pod splits open and spills you onto the floor and you gasp for air, coughing and spitting. There’s green, brackish fluid everywhere, it’s sticky and disgusting, and you’re bewildered and afraid. You’re in some kind of cave, but you don’t know how you got here, you don’t even know where “here” is. Those are your clothes slung over a trunk in the corner of the room, but on the chair next to them is an unfamiliar red robe with a patch that you can’t quite focus on. You stumble to your feet and reach for your shirt and jeans, trying to piece together where you are and why. For some reason, though, all of your memories are distant and hazy, like they happened a long, long time ago.

— — —

You’re six years old and your mother is enrolling you in a regular school over your grandmother’s protests. On the first day of class you stand up to introduce yourself, but even at six years old you know the Hallwinters aren’t popular. Your mother has explained that you belong to something old, a way of doing things most people don’t think works anymore. And you know that no one else in your class has a name like “Sildar.” You think of birds eating berries out of your hands, their soft, feathery heads butting against your fat fingers. “My name is Barry,” you say. “I like birds.”

Eventually, your classmate Sal finds out the truth, but by then you’re already friends and he decides it doesn’t matter. He does, however, joke that you need a fancier name than “Barry” if you’re one of those rich folk from up the hill. He christens you “Barold” and you laugh and decide you sort of like it. You go home that night and tell your mother that your name is Barold now, but you like to be called Barry. She smiles and says, “Okay, Barry.” Your grandmother is the only one who calls you Sildar anymore. She calls you that until the day she dies.

— — —

There’s a coin sitting on the table, on top of a pile of maps and notes, some of which seem strangely blurry, as if you can’t quite read them. You pick up the coin and it begins to speak; it has your voice. You throw it across the room, swearing. You stomp on it, smash it against the floor, trying to break it, because you’ve heard of cursed objects and however this thing got your voice inside of it, you’re sure it’s not good. But the coin stands up to your attack, not even a dent in the side, until you finally stop and listen to what it’s saying.

“…lot to take in, and as tempting as it is, you can’t try to remember. It won’t work and it will only confuse you. Trust me, though— if you can find—” the voice dissolved in static for a brief moment “—then she’ll help you. And I know she’s alright. Nothing could take her down. Believe me, believe yourself, Barry. You’ll find her, and she’ll help you get your memories back and set everything back to rights.”

You sit down and just try to breathe, rubbing the last of the green fluid off on your pants. You’re not afraid, but a weight sits heavy in your chest, constricting your throat. You have lost something, you just don’t know what. You feel blurry at the edges, like an incomplete drawing.

The coin claims it can help you. You clench your fist around it. Alone, in a cave you don’t recognize, with maps you don’t understand, you don’t feel like you have a lot of options other than trusting it.

— — —

The Hallwinter Estate officially goes bankrupt when you’re eight. You don’t understand all the financial niceties at the time, but you know it’s not exactly a surprise. You have to leave the grand halls and massive fireplaces of your house behind. You no longer have a garden with berry bushes where the birds come to eat in the mornings. Your grandmother can’t seem to accept it. For a little less than a year, you’re living in another house, closer to town but still outside of it. Your grandmother and your mother argue a lot when they think you’re asleep. Your grandmother seems to grow thinner and more tired every day.

She dies when you’ve just turned nine. You dress up in your last fine suit and attend a funeral populated by the rich and noble, wrapped in furs and silk, under stained glass windows that turn the entire room into a sea of fractured color. The cleric mentions that she is “survived by her daughter-in-law and her grandson, Sildar Hallwinter.” It’s the last time you ever hear that name.

Your mother takes you home, and the first thing she does is give notice for the lease on the house. You’ll be moving to an apartment in town, she says, somewhere she can actually afford to pay the rent. Then she asks you to go change into everyday clothes. She takes your suit and the dress she wore to the nearest tailor and she sells them, along with all your grandmother’s remaining finery and the last box of jewelry. The only thing she keeps is the wedding band wrapped around her finger.

She comes home and sits you down and tells you that it might be easier if the two of you change your last name. “Hallwinter” evokes nothing but bad blood around here. She doesn’t want to return to using her maiden name, and she thinks you might like to pick one out together.

You pull out a guidebook of birds your mother got you for your birthday and start combing through the pages. Your finger lands on one. Later, you won’t remember why you picked this one. You’d seen them in the garden, but they weren’t your favorites, or the most eye catching, or the most frequent. Still, you felt confident. “Jackdaw,” you say. “I want our last name to be Jackdaw.” Your mother smiles and ruffles your hair. The next day, she comes back from the courthouse with two certificates. You are now Marlena and Barold Jackdaw.

— — —

You’re climbing a rocky cliff side, and your fingers slip. You reel backward and fall away from the cliff, plunging toward the ground below. The air whistles in your ears. When you hit the ground, you hear a loud snap, and for the briefest instant, you’re looking somewhere impossible, because your neck doesn’t bend like that, and then you’re dead. Your last thought is that dying seems familiar.

— — —

Sal takes pity on you and your ripped pants, and he buys you a pair of blue denim jeans for your ninth birthday. Your grandmother, even bed bound and standing on death’s doorstep, sees you wearing them and sniffs something about peasant clothes. Just to spite her, you save up coins to buy an extra pair and start wearing them all the time. They’re more comfortable than any of the silk and wool your grandmother used to make you wear anyway. For your tenth birthday, all you ask for from your mother is another pair of jeans. Soon enough, you have so many pairs of jeans you wear almost nothing else. Sal, the only one of your friends who knows who Barold Jackdaw used to be, jokes that you should have chosen “Bluejeans” as your new last name. He stops calling you Barold and starts calling you “Bluejeans.”

— — —

You wake up naked and alone in a cave, surrounded by brackish fluid, but you don’t panic. It doesn’t seem scary, it only gives you a strange sense of déjà vu. There’s a coin sitting on the table. You pick it up and you listen. It has your voice. It knows who you are. It tells you to search. Somehow, you trust it. You start looking for the woman whose name you don’t know.

— — —

By the age of twelve, you know you want to do science for the rest of your life. Formulas – scientific, mathematic, and arcane – flow from your fingers like second nature. The only problem is picking which field. Your mother sits and listens as you pace back and forth, debating the merits of astrophysics versus the chemistry of transfiguration arcana. You’ve learned the scientific names of all the different birds who used to eat berries out of your hand, and study their migration patterns on the weekends. You like understanding how the world fits together. You want to know what makes a leaf turn yellow and die, and sprout again in spring. You want to know how the stars move across the sky. You want to know the nature of the planes the arcanists move through, and their physical relationship to the world as you know it.

As you get older, you write applications and plead for scholarships. Your mother listens patiently as you puzzle your way through homework and private studies, even if she doesn’t understand what you’re saying. She places a hand on your shoulder and reminds you it’s gotten dark outside, it’s already past second sunset, and you ought to go to bed. The work will always be there in the morning. You lean backward into a hug, sighing as your eyes slide closed and breathing in her familiar scent.

— — —

You hesitate, up to your knees in the lake, before taking a deep breath and plunging in. You don’t understand how you know how to swim. You didn’t know as a child, and you can’t remember anyone ever teaching you. But as soon as you hit the water, you’re moving, arms and legs working in unison to push you forward, your eyes closed, your hair drifting around your head.

You remember other things you shouldn’t. You know the taste of hot sauce on someone else’s lips. You can imagine, with frightening specificity, the sound of air whistling past your ears as you plummet to the ground from an impossible height. You can play the piano, even if you cannot name the notes.

The weight in your heart grows heavier for a moment whenever you have one of these impossible memories. You still feel blurry at the edges, as if you might suddenly dissolve out of existence.

— — —

When you’re thirteen you notice that you’re having trouble seeing the boards in classrooms and the birds in the trees have lost their definition. You get your vision tested and a week later thick, plastic-rimmed glasses settle on your nose. You look every inch the nerd that you are.

You lost touch with Sal when he moved away last year, but not before he got a couple of your other friends, Hugo and Izzy, to start calling you “Bluejeans” as well. From them, it spreads, to the rest of your classmates, and slowly to the entire school. It becomes so pervasive even a few teachers start doing it. You start writing your name as “Barry J. Bluejeans” on tests and papers.

With your new glasses, you spot something that’s gotten wedged down behind your desk at home. You pull it out from the wall, crawl on top of all your notes, and shove your arm down the narrow gap, just managing to catch the paper between your fingers. It’s a clumsy child’s drawing of a garden where you lived when you were someone else. You rub the paper fondly between your fingertips. On an impulse, you pull out an envelope and write down the address that Sal gave you. On the backside of the drawing, you write: Found this wedged behind my desk. Remember when I was the rich kid from up the hill? Miss you. —Barry J. Bluejeans. You get a letter back two weeks later. For your birthday that year, you get a new pair of jeans in the mail.

— — —

You’re facing down a reaper who calls himself Kravitz. Your back is quite literally against the wall, and even though the coin claims you’re supposedly a proficient necromancer and arcanist, you don’t know magic. All you wanted to do was study the stars and the planes, you didn’t ask for any of this. He calls you a lich and tells you that you’ve died no less than twenty-seven times. Your palms are sweaty and you feel cold all over.

The coin has told you that there’s a contingency plan. “If something goes wrong, I want you to know that… death is an option, and that for you, death doesn’t mean the end. I can’t explain anything else, you won’t be able to understand me, but if you die, it’s… gonna be okay, alright? In fact, if you… get captured, or get some kind of painful terminal illness, it would be better for you to go ahead and kick the bucket as fast as possible. I know that’s a hard thing to swallow, but… trust me on this, like you’ve trusted me on everything else.”

But it doesn’t seem like it will be okay. Here, with the sharp end of a scythe pressed against your throat, and the stone wall cold as ice at your back, it seems like the most terrifying thing that could ever happen. Your heart and your mind race at breakneck speed, as if trying to squeeze in as much life as possible before there’s none left.

“Barold J. Bluejeans,” Kravitz says. His face vanishes, revealing a skull with glowing red eyes. “I hereby reap your soul in the name of the Raven Queen.” He raises the scythe, and as unappealing as death sounds, eternity imprisoned in the Stockade sounds worse, so you take a chance. Before he can bring the scythe swinging down, you lift the slender, wickedly sharp blade in your hand and plunge it, with deadly precision, straight into your own heart. Your last thought is that dying seems familiar.

— — —

You’re eighteen and you’ve just been accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in the country. You can barely afford a penny of the tuition, so you’re frantically trying to secure scholarships. Half the papers are filled in with your real legal name, Barold Jackdaw, while the other half have Barold Bluejeans written on them in a fit of habit. Your friends are having a party to celebrate the end of the semester and your mother practically drags you away from your papers, shoving you out the door, insisting you go have fun. Your glasses fog over in the cold and you shove your hands in your pockets, shivering.

At the party you drink of glass of something that tastes warm and fruity and makes your head buzz pleasantly. You find yourself sitting in the corner talking to Izzy, sinking into the couch cushions. And then you find yourself outside in the back garden with Izzy, your mouths shoved clumsily together, your fingers tangling and creeping downward. Your glasses are fogged over again. You pull them off your face and drop them into the grass. Her hands pull down the zipper on your jeans, and a rush of cold air is immediately followed by exploratory fingers. You press closer to her, pushing her back into the wall, and she gasps in your ear. Your fingers slide across her collarbone and tug her shirt down over her shoulder. Her mouth is on your throat, and her thick hair is everywhere.

By the time you manage to retrieve your glasses, you’re shivering and burning all at once. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it’s close to the last.

— — —

You’re at a tavern, because it’s been weeks since you just talked to someone. You spend ages chasing cryptic clues and you’ve forgotten what it’s like to just be. You’d talk about anything, even the flipping weather, if it could just be a normal conversation. You don’t know if you remember how to have one of those anymore. You don’t know when the last time you had one of those was.

Your memories exist in layers of déjà vu, now, bits and pieces that leak through from one cycle to the next. You keep dying and reviving, you’ve figured that much out without the coin saying it explicitly, so it hasn’t been lost to static. But none of those memories will come into focus. The ones you have are too confused to think about clearly. You see them as if they were in an aquarium: distorted by the water and hidden by smudged glass. Your only clear memories come from before — but even those are fuzzy with time and distance. They seem so very long ago.

A man sits beside you at the bar, and you turn to him, struggling for words. “Nice night out,” you finally manage. He only grunts in reply. “I really like the beer here,” you try again.

“Only place in walking distance makes it good enough for me,” the man says, not bothering to look at him. You swallow. Small talk was never your strong suit, even in the best of circumstances.

— — —

Sal comes to your graduation when you’re twenty-one, and he manages to get there and hug you before even your mother. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Bluejeans,” he tells you. He has calluses on his fingers now. He’s an apprentice in a metal-working shop. The crinkle in his nose he gets when he smiles is the same though. “Hey, I got you something.” He places a wrapped box in your hand. When you tear it open, you find a tiny metal figurine of a jackdaw. Sal rolls his eyes. “To make up for always coming up with different names for you,” he says. You place it in the entryway of your new apartment, where no one can miss it.

— — —

You’re sitting outside, perched on a rock, watching the birds wheeling overhead. You feel like you know the sensation of flight, but it’s hardly a memory. It tickles at the edge of your consciousness, probably nothing more than a vivid imagination. It’s Midsummer, and you can’t stop scanning the sky. Whatever you’re looking for isn’t there, but the weight on your heart sits uneasy all the same.

— — —

This is how the story goes: you’re twenty-five, hugging your mother goodbye. She kisses you on the forehead, her grey hair a soft cloud around her, and wishes you well. You have a suitcase in your hand, containing only the bare essentials for a couple weeks away. She tells you to get moving, and you promise you’ll be home soon. And that’s the last thing you can remember.

— — —

This how the story goes: you drink from a flask, and you wake up gasping. Lup’s face comes back first. Taako and Merle are beside you, and you know them now, really know them, and they’re reeling, but you need to take a moment to collect your own thoughts and memories before you can help them. One hundred and ten years crash over your brain at once, and everything else seems distant and too far lost to consider. It’s a story about a stranger you never knew.

[she-jo]

thatsdelightful

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thatsdelightful replied to your post: ...

Also I didn’t get the chance to fully appreciate it because I was in the middle of work but holy crap I love that you made her a Barbarian, that’s so frickin badass

Yes! she’s got the Path of the ancestral guardian (the Bluejeans’ are a CLAN). There are many legends around town about Marlena. Some say she took on Xanathar himself and won, some have heard that her crops grow so well because even the ground reveres her rage. Is any of this true? Who knows. Now she’s a sweet old lady that bakes cookies for her grandbaby.

[lucifer-kane]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Adventure Zone (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Barry Bluejeans/Lup Characters: Barry Bluejeans, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Marlena Bluejeans, Julia Burnsides, The Director | Lucretia, Lup (The Adventure Zone), Taako (The Adventure Zone) Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Minor Character Death, Eventual Romance, Kid Fic, Original Character(s) Summary:

Barry got the two something to eat before he got to working on unpacking, the front door open, letting in some fresh late spring air as he went too and from the car with boxes and things. He started on the kids room, they’d probably only share for a couple more years, until Claudia was almost 7 and probably would want her own room since she was older. She was soft spoken, kind, quick to attach, and cling to her uncle like a lifeline. Julian was 5 and also attached, more wild and loved to get dirty, wanted a dog, probably wouldn’t want his sister to move out to a different room, and called Barry papa even though he knew he was his uncle. Barry was fine with it